


Happy Accident

by DagReaper (TyJaxReaper)



Category: Chicago Fire, Chicago Med
Genre: Apartment Fire, Concussions, Date Talk, Emergency MED, Firefighters, Flirting, M/M, Minor Injuries, Number Exchanging, Post-Jeff Leaving Firehouse 51
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:54:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6915433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TyJaxReaper/pseuds/DagReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C’mon, gimme a name,” he requested as he pulled a light from his pocket and carefully opened one eye, shining the light in and seeing it dilate. He then moved onto the next, noting the same response from it.</p><p>“...Jeff,” he panted a little, his voice pained, deep and rough. “Jeff Clarke,” he had a name, now he needed to keep him talking.</p><p>“You’re a fireman? What rank?”</p><p>“...Lieutenant, firehouse 25,”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Accident

**Author's Note:**

> I've been aching to write something between these two. I really love the characters and I really wish there was more Jeff to be had in Chicago Fire.

Rhodes was ready as the call came in and the mass of Firemen followed behind a gurney, paramedics dragging it in with another fireman lying practically unconscious while still wearing more than half of his gear.

“Talk to me,” he requested quickly and dutifully as he moved to stride alongside while checking him over on the move. It was one of the firemen that started talking, not giving the paramedic the time to answer.

“We were called to an apartment fire. A beam dropped on him, hit him pretty bad, he was out for a few minutes while we got him on a stretcher,” he answered frantically, Dr Rhodes keeping his ears clear as he listened.

“How long?Specifically?”

“About two minutes? Two and a half?”

“Vitals?” he asked as they turned into an empty room. There was a team already there and setting the wires and breather. “Where did the beam land?”

“His-uh, his-,” one of the other men stuttered, reaching his arm around to point at his back and shoulder, angling a little down towards the small of his back. So it hit him at an angle. He could check that in a second. He needed to wake him, test him.

“Alright,” he turned and reached up to the mans’ head, seeing the almost unconscious, dazed look and faint tilting of his head from side to side, probably trying to find a spot where it would feel less painful. A head injury was still on the list he needed to check. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a mild concussion. The jury was still out.

“Sir?” he called, noting the split-second pinch of the centre of his eyebrows and little, deep groan. He was somewhat responsive at least. “Can you tell me your name?” he made sure to speak clearly, like he usually did with a patient.

“His name’s-,”

“Shh-,” he assumed that was a paramedic silencing a fireman. He could hear a few of them being moved from the room for him and the small crew to work, the door closing behind them.

“Sir?” he asked again, and this time, his reply was a pained gasp and slight arch of his torso. Connor looked down to where one of the other nurses was gently pressing at his now bare chest, on one side where his ribs were. His shirt was cut open and there was a slow build of a dark bruise growing. “C’mon, gimme a name,” he requested as he pulled a light from his pocket and carefully opened one eye, shining the light in and seeing it dilate. He then moved onto the next, noting the same response from it.

“...Jeff,” he panted a little, his voice pained, deep and rough. “Jeff Clarke,” he had a name, now he needed to keep him talking.

“You’re a fireman? What rank?”

“...Lieutenant, firehouse 25,” he still sounded like he was in pain, not surprised.

“What’d you remember, Jeff?”

 

“ _Vitals are stable, heart rate’s high_ ,” Sexton pointed out quietly, not wanting to distract anyone as she clicked around with the machine at the bedside.

“Uh... the apartment fire- I got a woman out, went back in. We called in ‘clear’ and I was...” he then trailed off, which caught his attention instantly. He stared at the dazed eyes shifting a little as he stared up at the ceiling. He looked a little lost, like he was looking for what happened next. After a few more seconds of silence, Rhodes confirmed there was a concussion, not too bad, but bad enough that he wanted to do a few tests.

“One of your men said a beam landed on you and you were out for a few minutes,” he helped, and then held his fingers out in front of his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?” there was a pause, his eyebrows knitting and he squinted a little.

“Three,” he finally answered, making him nod in satisfaction when he had it right. Connor stood back and nodded to the rest of the crew, getting them back as a response and then seeing them move away and around the room to the door.

“Luckily, it only looks like a mild concussion, but I wanna do a few tests to be sure,” he could almost hear the grumbling from the injured and exhausted frown on his face. Guess he didn’t like hospitals.

\----------

“What’re you doing up?” he asked after seeing his patient sitting on the edge of the bed, his upper body bare with a few cuts and a purpled bruise peeking out from under a poorly done bandage. He’d have to re-do it. The other bandage, the bigger one for the worst of the wounds looked perfectly fine, in place and cleaned and tidy. A newbie must've covered his rib area.

“Think I can sit without hurting myself, sir,” he saw the faint line of a smile grace his lips and it was attractive, something nice to see from patients, a little more so on this guy. Rhodes wasn’t gay and he definitely wasn’t against that kind of thing or anything, but he wasn’t oblivious to a handsome man when he saw one. Jeff Clarke fit that bill perfectly.

"Dr Rhodes," he supplied, walking further into the room and closing the door behind him. "And it's doctors orders, but..." he paused with a smile. "... since you're up, let me re-do that bandage," he requested, moving to put the clipboard on the table before grabbing a few needed supplies, bandage, gauze, disinfectant cream, swell pad cream, wide plasters, etcetera. From the faint look of relief, he was pretty sure he'd be happy with the changing of it.

The fireman helped by shifting to the edge of the bed to make it easier on him to get to the wounds and bandage him up. Connor stepped over and got closer, moving to stand between Clarkes' knees before reaching out and cutting a straight line up through the thin fabric with a pair of scissors, letting it come apart and fall from his strong and sturdy ribcage. He dropped the scissors to the side, reaching out to gently pull the plasters corner up and then gradually and carefully peal it back, revealing the dark, ugly colours of bruising from minor cracked ribs. He'd be off work for a while, until they healed, but knowing a fireman of all people, he'd find a way to get back to work. They were usually head-strong and all too stubborn for their own good. This man was, more than likely, no exception. And he was a Lieutenant, if anything, he'd be worse.

"I'd advice taking it easy, and getting a lot more rest than you normally would, but I'm pretty sure you won't listen," he smirked a little as he applied a little more swell-cream. He wanted to make sure he was clearly taken care of. It's not that he didn't trust his crew, but it just looked like whoever covered this part, did a lousy job.

"And why'd you say that?" he asked quietly, his attention seeming to be fixed on what he was doing with his hands.

 

"We've had a few firemen here before and on a few occasions, they've had to be rushed in because they didn't listen to the doctors' orders. They went back to work while they were still recovering," he couldn't hide the little irritation in his tone. Connor carefully placed a large square plaster over the bruising and thin gauze, covering it completely and neatly, and then he reached for the bandages, unravelling a good few feet before leaning a little closer into the mans torso. He was surprising wide, muscle upon toned muscle under tough skin.

"Well... maybe you could keep tabs on me," the doctor took a glance up at him, seeing the emotionless expression change, one corner of his lip curving up slightly.

"And how do you expect me to do that?" his brow knitted a little before he reached in and around, looping the bandage around the first time and almost coming into physical contact. They were practically chest to chest with each other, Jeff being a little bigger and taller than him while he sat on the bed.

"I finish work at six, depending on when you finish, I could pick you up and we could have dinner," he saw the shrug, could almost feel it with how close they were and he just stared up at him. Mr Clarke just... asked him out... right? He wasn't just hearing things? "Casual clothing, I'm buying," he added. He definitely wasn't hearing things. A fireman just asked him out with the excuse of keeping tabs on his patient. Screw the doctor/patient rules.

"I-uh... I get off at half five," he muttered, dropping his eyes low to continue wrapping the bandage around his ribcage. He wrapped it until it ran out, sticking the end down with a fixative. He gently patted the area and hesitantly stepped back, eyeing him over and pocketing one hand, the other reaching out for the notepad he put down before.

"Other than a few cracked ribs, and a mild concussion, you're good to go. There anything else I can get you?" he tucked the pad under his arm.

"Your number," he smirked and Connor scoffed before smiling and pulling the pen from the top of the pad. He stepped back over and reached for the mans hand, writing the digits down on the inside of his palm.

"Now, get going, I got another patient to see,"

"Lovely bedside manners, Dr Rhodes, I'll be seeing you," as soon as that was said, Connor turned with a beaming smile, managing to compose himself as soon as he reached the door and he left with his usual expressionless features. On the outside he was calm, collected, on the inside... he was wondering what he should be wearing for that night, casual clothes? He needed to ravage through his wardrobe.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, I really did and I'm happy I managed to get something written with these characters specifically. 
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


End file.
